Resisting
by Katie.P.Bell
Summary: When Voldemort took over the Ministry, he demanded that all students prove their wizarding ancestry in order to attend Hogwarts. He took from an entire generation of muggleborns their school, and from some their lives.   AN: I don't own HP
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

_Hermione gave a shaky laugh._

"_What's Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?" she asked Lupin._

"_Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," he replied. "This way, Voldemort will have the whole Wizarding population under his eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns, because students must be given Blood Status - meaning that they have proven to the Ministry that they are of Wizard descent - before they are allowed to attend."_

_Harry felt sickened and angry: At this moment, excited eleven-year-olds would be poring over stacks of newly purchased spell-books, unaware that they would never see Hogwarts, perhaps never see their families again either._


	2. The Fall

**Chapter 1 – The Fall**

"Lewis, you do realise that it is only a five minute walk to the park, correct?"

"Yes, mum, but you said that last year and we nearly missed the first event."

"Fair point," his mother conceded. "Still, there is no reason to leave two hours early. Besides, you know your father won't be able to run very well on no sleep."

"Couldn't we just set back his alarm a bit?"

"No. Why don't you go work on making him a real champion's breakfast instead."

"Very well, but don't blame me if this is the year we come out on the bottom at the family fair."

Three batches of eggs and eight pieces of burnt toast later, the little family was on its way. As they walked the few short blocks to the town park they waved to many of their neighbours, joking that they would see them in few hours when the fair actually began. Lewis heard nothing of this, however, as he was too busy running ahead to make sure that they wouldn't be late, then running back to hurry his parents along.

"Tom, I do believe you are going to have to carry him, or he'll do another five laps before we even get there," Mrs. Moore told her husband.

Laughing, the tall man agreed, and he scooped up his son so that he might ride on his shoulders. Many an eleven-year-old boy, would have minded such an arrangement, but though Lewis put on a show – pulling his father's messy brown hair (which was much like his own) and such – he actually rather enjoyed it. Sitting so high, it felt as if he were flying, as if he had been freed from all of his earthbound clumsiness. _Indeed, there were no wastebaskets he could knock over up here (quite unlike the three rubbish bins he had already run into that morning)._

At last the family arrived at the much anticipated fair, and Lewis scrambled down from his father's shoulders, his eyes wide open as he tried to take it all in. There were almost twenty colourful booths offering games, fortune telling, crafts, ten different types of food, and, at the very end of the row, the chance to sign up for the competition. It was towards this last table that Lewis half-dragged his parents, making sure that their names were the very first on the form.

Two hours later, old Mr. Donovan's voice rang out across the park, "All competitors please report to the starting line."

Mr. and Mrs. Moore turned to their son, smiling as they half expected him to be at the line already. To their surprise, however, he seemed frozen in place.

"Hurry up now Lewis. It wouldn't do for the boy who arrived two hours early to be late for the start of the race. The sleep your mum and I missed will have all been for naught," Mr. Moore teased.

Lewis hesitated. "It's just that there are so many other things to do today, and I wouldn't want us to miss out on us trying anything."

As Mr. Moore laughed again, his wife knelt down to talk to her son and told him, "Lewis, you have nothing to worry about. Last year's accident is long forgotten – look, Mr. Donovan's hair has all grown back – and nothing is going to happen this year. Besides, you can't hide forever."

"No, but I could move to China."

"Not anytime soon, son," his father interjected, "now, let's go before they actually do begin without us."

With that the pair walked over to the starting line, ignoring the worried look Mr. Donovan was giving them and began stretching and readying themselves for the obstacle course.

Before they knew it, Mr. Donovan had blown his whistle and they were off. After only a small stumble in the first part of the race, the Moore men caught up to the other families. Indeed, as the passed through the tyres, Lewis started to think that they might even place this year.

Yet, as he clambered up the rock wall, Lewis began to feel nervous, his fear of heights overcoming him. Only ten metres off the ground his limbs started to move more slowly and he began to hesitate more and more between each new hold. The higher he climbed, the worse it got, and by the time he was thirty metres in the air there was nothing to be done for it. Lewis was stuck, and all the coaxing in the world could not convince him to climb the last three metres to the top.

Before long, he heard the cheers that meant that the race was over, that some other, less afraid child and his father had claimed this year's trophy. Yet, still, Lewis remained where he was, for the same paralysis that meant he could not finish the climb, prevented him from going down as well. After half an hour, a crowd had gathered, worried mothers whispering amongst themselves and boys sniggering as they mocked Lewis's latest failure. Still Lewis remained where he was.

Eventually, Mr. Wood, who had just won the race, declared to the sizable crowd that he would climb up and rescue the boy. The crowd cheered their twice hero as he fitted his harness and began his ascent, then fell into an anxious silence as he approached the boy.

Lewis, for his part, continued to tremble, so much in fact that he almost didn't notice Mr. Wood's approach and that when he did arrive, he had to ask him to repeat his instructions twice. Eventually though, he understood what the burly man was saying.

"Son, I need you to unhook your harness from the rope and attach it to mine. Don't worry. I'll hold onto you so you don't fall. Just make sure that you don't look down as you do it. It will be much easier that way."

With that, Mr. Wood took a firm hold of Lewis's arms, and as his paralysis faded, he began the process of unhooking his harness. At first, the knots confused him, but after a minute of solid effort he was able to unhook it. Just as he moved to attach it to Mr. Wood's harness, however, a gust of wind blew through the clearing, and Lewis couldn't help it. He sneezed.

The sneeze caught Mr. Wood by surprise, and with a gasp, he let go.

As it often does in moments of great stress or importance, time seemed to freeze. Women screamed and urged their children to cover their eyes. The men in the crowd started and after but the slightest moment's hesitation rushed towards the structure so that they might catch the falling boy. Through it all, Lewis fell. Yet to those watching it seemed as if the fall went on forever, almost as if he were floating to the ground. And then, miracle of miracles, he landed in his father's arms.

The crowd exhaled the breath it hadn't realised it had been holding and a great cheer went up as they saw that Lewis was safe. After several hurrahs and pats on the back, though, they began to disperse and go off to enjoy the remainder of the festival, all the while discussing the incredible sight they had seen.

_How fortunate was it that he seemed to fall so slowly. Of course he didn't actually fall more slowly than was natural,_ they assured themselves. _ It just seemed that way. Still, it was fortunate indeed that his father was able to run so fast._

For now, at least, Lewis heard none of these whispers. He was too busy being hugged half to death by his parents.

That night, after his mother had kissed him goodnight for the third time, Lewis stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom pondering the face that stared back at him. By all rights, that face was more or less normal. The messy brown hair and the deep brown eyes were nothing if not typical. He certainly wasn't fat and not skinny enough for it to be noticeable. He didn't even have any glasses or scars or anything to set him apart.

_What then, _he wondered, _was it that set him apart? Why couldn't he be normal?_

_Was it that he was too quiet, that he didn't yell and shout like the other boys his age did? Or was it that he was a coward, something today's events made overwhelmingly clear? Or was it all of the odd things that seemed to happen to him?_

For the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Donovan's hair was not the only time something unusual had occurred in his presence. The day before Christmas when he was seven years old, he stole downstairs and ate all of the biscuits, yet when his mother checked the jar that afternoon, it was mysteriously full. And, today, regardless of what the people on the ground may have let themselves believe, he had fallen far more slowly than was normal.

Try as he might, however, Lewis could not explain it, leaving him with no choice but to fall into a fitful sleep.


	3. A Wizard?

**Chapter 2: A Wizard?**

Sunday morning breakfast was old tradition in the Moore family. Ever since Lewis could hold a fork, he had sat down with his parents at precisely nine o'clock to a table filled with eggs, sausage, beans, hash browns, and black pudding. And every Sunday morning, at precisely five past nine, Mr. Moore had inquired of his wife as to which army she was attempting to feed that morning, earning himself either a face full of eggs, or on a particularly lovely morning, a quick kiss.

This Sunday was no exception. Lewis was not foolish enough to miss Sunday breakfast. An extra few minutes of sleep was most definitely not worth his mother worrying that he was ill. She had a habit of prescribing a concoction of tomato juice, prune juice, and seltzer that she insisted fixed all ills. Privately, Lewis was fairly certain that said mixture merely ensured that the person who drank it would expel everything in their body, good or bad.

Present though he may have been, Lewis had not slept very much at all after the excitement of the day before, and he could hardly keep himself awake. He didn't even giggle as his mother dumped an entire bowl of fruit on his father's head, something that caused his mother to start muttering about tomato juice. Nor did he notice the sharp rapping on the front door at precisely half past nine until his father got up to answer it.

Too tired to rouse himself, he told himself that it was just Mr. Wood and his less than charming son Roger, coming by to show off their trophy and busied himself with his food. However, after fifteen minutes had passed and his parents still had not returned, curiosity won out over tiredness and he got up to see who was at the door.

It was most certainly not Roger and his father. As he entered the front hall he saw an older woman. He would have called her elderly, were it not for the impression she gave that she could still give a good whipping. As he looked at her, he began racking his brain, trying to remember if he had any severely overdue library books, for with her tartan skirt, narrow eyeglasses, and prim bun, she looked the picture of an irritable librarian.

Just as he was sneaking off to his room to check under his bed, however, the woman turned to him and beckoned him to join the adults. Timidly, he approached, and as he did so, he noticed the deep confusion and concern on his parents' faces. They seemed almost unable to speak.

The woman took charge of the situation.

"Why don't we retire to your sitting room? I am sure we will all be much more comfortable there, and undoubtedly Lewis will have many questions once everything is explained to him. Amelia, perhaps you might bring us some tea?"

"Why, yes… yes, of course," stuttered Mrs. Moore as she hurried off to the kitchen to do as the librarian suggested.

Lewis had no time, however, to wonder at his mother's confusion (and how the librarian knew her name) as he followed his father and the strange woman into his sitting room and sat down beside his father. A minute later, his mother returned, her trembling hands holding a tray with four steaming mugs of tea. She served all of those present and then squeezed herself beside her son on the sofa, leaving the three Moores facing the stranger.

The librarian, if that was what she was, seemed unperturbed by the seating arrangements. She calmly sipped her tea, almost as if she were collecting her thoughts, returned the cup to its saucer, sighed, and began to speak.

"I suppose it would be cruel to leave you in suspense any longer Lewis. My name is Minerva McGonagall and I am the deputy headmistress at Hogwarts School. I am here today to inform you that you have been admitted to our institution."

"Then I'm not in trouble then?" Lewis asked, the relief shining on his face.

"Not yet at least." The woman, McGonagall, seemed to almost smile for the smallest of moments and then her face resumed its severe expression. "Before you accept or decline your admission, however, there are a few things you should know. Hogwarts is a unique school, a school for students with special abilities. Hogwarts is a school of magic."

Lewis' face fell. "But… I can't do magic," he whispered.

"Have you ever had things happen to you that you can't quite explain, ever made things happen that you didn't understand?"

Memories of his slow descent yesterday, of a bald Mr. Donovan, and of a mysteriously refilling biscuit tin rose to the top of Lewis' mind, and slowly the smile returned to his face.

"I thought as much," said McGonagall, again with that hint of a smile. "The question is not whether or not you are a wizard, for that you very much are, but whether or not you wish to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

With that, McGonagall turned to Lewis' parents, neither of whom had spoken a word since they sat down.

Tom and Amelia Moore looked nothing if not shocked and amazed. They had always known that their son was unique among children, but they had always assumed that it was just his propensity for spending time with adults that set him apart, not anything as large as this. Yet, as they looked that the excitement, the possibility shining on their son's face, the shock slowly faded from theirs. Perhaps, Lewis might find at this mysterious school what he had missed so far. Perhaps here he would truly belong.

"The decision is not ours to make," Tom responded to McGonagall's questioning look. He turned to his son, "Well, Lewis, would you like to go?"

"Yes, yes, very much."

"Then that decides it then," McGonagall said. She pulled a rather large letter out of her pocket. "Here, Lewis, is your official letter of admittance as well as a list of supplies you will need for school. Most of these items you will not be able to find on your own in the muggle – non-magical – world, so, if you have no objections, we will be sending a representative along to take you shopping."

With that, McGonagall and the Moores set to discussing the details of their son's new school. Lewis, however, heard little of this conversation, transfixed as he was by the letter he held in his hands. Wands, spellbooks, toads… It all sounded so unreal, utterly magical…

"Excuse me Mr. Moore," McGonagall

"Um…sorry."

McGonagall continued, "As I was saying, while I am sure that you are very excited about the coming year, it is imperative that you do not discuss Hogwarts or any other aspect of the wizarding world with any of your non-magical friends. No doubt they would have trouble believing you, but in the unlikely event that they did, it would pose a grave threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, and would not bode well for your coming years at Hogwarts. Understood?"

"Oh…yes… of course."

"Very well then," said McGonagall as she stood up to leave, "Enjoy the rest of your summer, Mr. Moore. We'll be sending a representative with you on the 31st of July to get your things, and I shall look forward to seeing you on September the first."

And with that the stately professor walked out the door. Lewis rushed to the window to watch her as she departed, but strangely, she was already gone. Slowly, he turned to his parents, wanting to confirm, wanting to make sure it was real. And when he saw the utter bewilderment in their faces, he knew, and his face became one enormous smile.


	4. Diagon Alley

**Chapter 3: Diagon Alley**

Late in July, Lewis was sitting in his bedroom, trying to focus on a novel his father had recommended as one of his favourites as a boy and not to dwell yet again on Professor McGonagall and the incredible future she had offered him. Suddenly, a sharp rapping on the window interrupted his attempt. He looked up to see what had made the noise and nearly fell off his bed.

There was a large tawny bird, an owl, hovering outside his window with an envelope in its beak. He just stood there staring for a moment, not knowing what to make of its sudden appearance. This did not seem to please the owl, and it rapped impatiently on the window, as if demanding to know why Lewis was making it wait. He hurried to let it in and was even more surprised when it dropped the envelope, which he now saw was addressed to him, in his lap and flew off again, apparently wishing to make up for the time he had cost it. Still puzzled, Lewis began to unfold his letter.

_Mr. Lewis Moore_

_Corner Bedroom_

_16 Mowbray Rd_

_Harlow, England_

_United Kingdom_

_Dear Mr. Moore,_

_We are pleased that you have decided to join us for the coming year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Pursuant to our earlier conversation, in order to be successful in your studies here, you will require certain items as listed in your letter of acceptance._

_To assist you in the purchase of these necessities, Professor R. Hagrid, will accompany you and several other new students to Diagon Alley in London. We ask that your parents bring you to the Leaky Cauldron Pub, located at (address here) London at promptly 10am._

_Be advised that those without magical abilities are unable to see the Leaky Cauldron from the street, and thus it would be best if your parents were to allow you to enter on your own._

_While you will obviously be able to use your own discretion in the purchase of the items you will need for the coming school year, it is generally recommended that incoming students bring no less than three hundred and twenty five pounds in non-magical money to change at Diagon Alley. _

_Best of luck with your shopping, and I sincerely look forward to welcoming you to Hogwarts on September the 1__st__._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts_

The morning of 31 July came at the end of a long week, indeed a long month, of clouds and near perpetual rain. Yet, Lewis hardly noticed the weather, so excited was he by the prospect of his first trip into the magical world. His parents had to send him back up to his room three times to finish dressing, and when he came out the third time with mismatching socks, Tom and Amelia Moore just looked at each other and smiled.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was time to leave and the family piled into their little car to head to London. They encountered unusually little traffic for that time of year.

"Perhaps, this dour weather is keeping everyone in their beds late," remarked his father as they got closer to their destination, "and a good thing too. I think that if he had to spend even a few minutes more in this care, Lewis might just explode."

The Moores chuckled, but before Lewis could begin to ponder a retort, he saw a building materialize on his right.

"Mum, Dad, stop the car! We've arrived!"

The Leaky Cauldron was certainly an unimposing place. There were more than a few broken shutters, and one of the windows at the top seemed to need replacing. Yet it had an air of mystery about it, that both made Lewis nervous and want to run inside. He gave his mum a quick kiss, checked his pocket for the money his parents had given him, and turned to head inside, barely hearing the parting words his dad gave him.

"Don't forget son, we'll just be at the theatre nearby, so call us when you've finished or if you need anything. Good luck!"

Watching as his son seemed to fade away, Tom Moore turned to give his wife a quick kiss and they climbed back into the car.

The Leaky Cauldron itself didn't seem all that magical. If anything it was a little run down. It was the people inside that truly amazed Lewis. The place was filled with men and women in dark cloaks, many of them sipping strange drinks. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn that one gentleman was drinking a tall glass of blood. As he looked around him at the pubs patrons, most of the excitement that had propelled him through the door dissolved into nerves and he just stood frozen at the door for a few minutes. A glance at the strange looking clock above the bar though, seemed to indicate that 10 o'clock was fast approaching. He took a deep breath to steady himself and walked over to the man who seemed to be in charge.

"Excuse m..m..me, sir," he stammered, "I'm s…s…supposed to be meeting a Professor Hagrid here. Could you…?"

"Don't worry, m'boy," the hunched man answered. "Tom's the name. Muggleborn are you?"

Lewis nodded.

"Well then, you may as well join the rest of your lot over there. Hagrid's bound to be along soon enough." And he pointed over to a corner of the pub where three other children around his age were sitting.

Taking yet another deep breath, Lewis walked over to the table where the others were.

"My name is Lewis. I'm supposed to be new at Hogwarts this year. Tom, I think it was, over at the bar said that you were waiting for Professor Hagrid as well."

A tall, dark skinned boy stood up.

"Yep, brought my letter and everything, just in case. Name's James Fletcher. You should sit down and wait with us."

He pulled out a chair for Lewis and once he had scooted himself up to the table, he turned to look at the two girls sitting there. The blond one spoke up first.

"Alice Smith, and this is Agnes…Turner." She turned to the girl sitting next to her. "Did I get that right?"

"Perfect," she replied, with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

Getting off the subject of names, Lewis asked, "And you're all witches and wizards too?"

Again, Fletcher was the first to speak, "At least that's what McGonagall told us when she came by. Never heard anything of magic before in my life though. I imagine the whole lot in here are too. Then again, she also told us to be here at ten o'clock, and it's already ten past and here we still sit all alone."

Lewis had to admit that it was rather surprising that a woman such as Professor McGonagall, or indeed anyone she associated with, could be anything other than on time. As he thought it over, Alice and Fletcher resumed the conversation they had been having before he arrived, something about Fletcher's football prowess. This left him to ponder the other girl at the table, Agnes, her name was.

At first glance, she was nothing much to look at, certainly not when sitting next to Alice. She was rather small, a trait she shared with Lewis, and her brown hair was just a bit too mousy to really be called brunette. Yet, Lewis soon found himself drawn into the eyes behind her wire-rimmed glasses. They were a deep blue, almost bordering on black, and as you looked into them you could see the intelligence and fire lying beneath such a meek exterior. So absorbed was he that he hardly noticed the irritated look that was starting to come over those eyes as he continued to stare.

"What are you on about?" she asked. "Do you plan to continue staring at me all day, because I assure you, Alice is a much better object for your affections."

"Sorry, I'm just a bit nervous is all."

"It's all right," she responded, "I probably wouldn't have snapped at you if I wasn't anxious too. It just seems so hard to believe. One day a woman shows up on my doorstep, promising me a whole new life, and then a month with nothing. Now, I'm here, and everything seems perfectly normal. Is this just some sort of practical joke?"

Lewis had to admit, he was beginning to wonder much the same thing, at least until he looked up to see the Leaky Cauldron's newest arrival. An enormous, shaggy looking man stood in the doorway. He was at least twice as tall as Lewis, and nearly four times as wide. _Did they have giants in this world too?_ Even more alarming, the man began to make his way over to their table, pausing only briefly to wave at Tom the bartender.

When he arrived at their table, even Alice and Fletcher had fallen silent as they waited for him to speak.

"Hullo. So you lot are the new Hogwarts students, right?"

They nodded.

"Well then, I'm Professor Hagrid," the man smiled slightly as he said the Professor part. "Everybody got their letters…good. Off we go then."

And without a word the four of them got up to follow him to an alley behind the bar.

Fletcher was the first one to find his voice, "Excuse me, err… Professor, but where are we exactly?"

"This m'boy is the entrance to Diagon Alley."

He continued, as the four of them looked around even more confused than before, "Now, before we go, there are a few things you need to know. Firs' thing you lot are going to need to do is to change your muggle money. No use trying to buy anything with those little bits o' paper you've got now. For that we'll head to Gringotts, the wizarding bank. It's run by goblins, mighty sensitive folk, so make sure you don't insult them or stare too much while we're there. In Diagon Alley itself, it's very, very important that you don't wander off. Don't want you getting lost. Well, before you forget any of that, may as well go."

With that, he pulled a large pink umbrella out of his enormous coat. Mumbling to himself, he tapped a few bricks on the wall behind the rubbish bins in quick succession. For a moment it seemed that nothing was happening, and then the bricks began to move. Lewis' mouth dropped open as what had once been a dirty wall, became a gateway, with a world beyond it even more amazing than the sight he had just witnessed.

At long last, he knew that the world McGonagall had promised was real. Lewis turned to look at Agnes and he could see the same realization in her eyes. Together, they stepped across the threshold, almost forgetting to stay with Professor Hagrid as they took in everything.

The people were sombrely dressed, much as they had been in the Leaky Cauldron, and they hurried about their business with a great sense of urgency. But what errands they were! There were vendors selling newts, beetle eyes, and scales or offering samples from cauldrons with purple steam. And just over there was a shop selling actual flying broomsticks. What most appealed to Lewis though, was Flourish and Blotts, which seemed to be the bookshop. He couldn't help himself, he ran up to look in through the window, and he saw books flying all over the shop, quills recording orders all on their own. By the time he looked away, Professor Hagrid and the others had nearly disappeared down the street. He hurried to catch up and, a little out of breath, tried to stay with the Professor.

Walking alongside Professor Hagrid now, Lewis found himself bubbling over with curiosity about the magical world, about Hogwarts, about everything. He took the opportunity, though, to ask the question that had been worrying him for quite some time.

"Professor, could I ask you a question?"

"Ask away."

"Well, it's just, it seems like there is a whole magical world out there, and I've never heard about any of it. How can I hope to compete with the other students, the ones who've been a part of this their whole lives?" Lewis looked away, embarrassed.

Professor Hagrid smiled kindly at Lewis as he answered, "Firs' off, you lot aren't the only muggleborns who will be coming to Hogwarts this year. They just don't like to bring firs' years down to Diagon Alley in large groups because what wit' you lot never havin' been here before an' all, they reckon that ye would be bound to wander off and get lost. So there'll be plenty who don't know nothin' about magic at all, like you. An' there's so much learnin' to do once ye get there that even those that do know somethin' haven't got much of an advantage."

"Thanks Professor."

He was about to ask another of the thousands of questions buzzing around his head, but just then they arrived at Gringotts and he and the others followed Professor Hagrid inside the most imposing building on the street to change their muggle money.

An hour later, Lewis stood next to Agnes in the queue at Flourish and Blotts, both of them hardly able to see over the piles of books in their arms.

"It's a good thing my parents gave me a few extra quid," Lewis said. "they must have known I'd end up buying twice the booklist."

"Mine as well, but I still didn't have enough to get the book on magical creatures of England. Maybe they'll have it at the Hogwarts library. I've just found out how much I don't know and I'm dying to learn."

Lewis looked again at his stack of books, though in bending he nearly dropped all of them.

"I've got it here, actually. If you like, you could borrow it once we get to Hogwarts."

She smiled, "that would be wonderful. By the way, I'm sorry I was a bit cold before. I've never been great with meeting new people, and suddenly it seems like every face I come across is a new one."

"Don't worry about it. I can think of about twenty things I'm not great with. Honestly, I'm shocked that I haven't dropped these books yet."

And with that, they all fell to the floor.

Laughing, Agnes put her books down too and helped Lewis to gather his up. They walked up to the counter, paid for their treasures and walked back out to the street to where Professor Hagrid, Fletcher, and Alice were waiting for them.

"At last! We thought we were going to have to send a rescue party in for you two," Fletcher said. "And I'm half-serious too."

"Well, now that you lot are all together again," Professor Hagrid put in, "there's just one thing left to do. It's time to get your wands."

The first years fell silent as they followed the professor down the street. He slowed for a moment outside a dusty, boarded up shop called Ollivander's, as if out of habit, but quickly sped up again until they reached their destination, a small shop called Swish and Flick. Unlike all the other shops they had been to that day, however, the front door was bolted. Professor Hagrid knocked three times and then stepped back to wait. So long in coming was the shopkeeper that Lewis began to wonder if there was another wandmaker in town. Eventually though, there was a quick series of knocks in reply. Again, the professor knocked, though this time only twice.

At last a weak voice came through the tiniest of cracks in the door, "Who g..g..goes there?"

"Marcus, it's Hagrid with another group of firs' years. Are you going to let us in or not?"

"First tell me what sort of wand exploded during your first visit here."

The professor rolled his eyes, but responded, "Birch with a phoenix feather core."

This time there was no response, but Lewis heard at least six separate locks being undone, and finally the door swung open revealing a small, shabby looking shop. It was seemed to match its owner quite well. Marcus was a small man, a dwarf next to the professor, with a nervous look about him. At first glance he seemed to be about forty, but he was so anxious that Lewis guessed that he was probably younger. After all of his hesitation at the door, he was certainly in a rush to get them into his shop, practically pulling Alice in by her hair.

"Well, th…then," Marcus asked looking around at his guests, "who's f..f..first?"

Fletcher was once again the first one to volunteer, and Alice, Agnes, and Lewis squeezed onto a flower-covered sofa that bore a remarkable resemblance to the one in Lewis' grandmother's sitting room while Marcus began his measurements. The first few were normal enough, the length of Fletcher's arm, the distance between his shoulders, the size of his head. When the measure started to determine the distance between his nostrils, though, Lewis decided that his attention was best directed elsewhere.

The shop was orderly enough. Beyond the sitting area at the front, he could see shelves filling up almost the entire place filled with boxes upon boxes in all different colours. The were all neatly stacked, and the place had clearly been swept recently, but there was no adornment, no embellishment, no sign that the owner spent any more time there than was absolutely necessary. Before, Lewis could think any more on that though, Fletcher was smiling and holding a wand and Marcus was calling for the other young gentleman to come over.

Marcus pulled out his measuring tape, and without a word proceeded to make the same measurements that he had for Fletcher. A few minutes later, there was a long piece of paper filled with his scribblings and he had disappeared among the shelves. He came back with a small stack of multicoloured boxes.

"Here you are lad," he said, pulling a long, thin wand out of the top box and handing it to Lewis, "thirteen inches, oak and dragon heartstring. Give it a go now."

At that moment, Lewis regretted not having paid more attention while Fletcher was choosing his wand, because he had absolutely no idea what to do. Feeling incredibly foolish, he waved the wand around a bit. It only made the feeling worse when nothing happened, and Marcus took the wand away, pulling out another for him to try.

The results from the second wand, ten inches holly and unicorn hair, were much the same, and though with the third wand Lewis accidently caused Marcus' hat to fall off his head, he took that one away too.

By the time the fifth wand came out of its box, Lewis was starting to wonder whether or not he was a wizard at all. This one was different, though. From the moment he held it, he could feel a warmness spreading from his fingertips to his entire body. He waved it and purple sparks flew out the end.

Marcus smiled for the briefest of moments, "Well there you have it, twelve and a half inches birch and unicorn hair."

Hagrid clapped him on the back, "Well done m'boy."

Lewis hardly heard any of this though, as one thought was crowding out all others in his head. _It's real, it's happening. I'm a wizard, and now I've got a wand to prove it._

Smiling, he sat down to watch Alice and Agnes choose their wands.


	5. Blood and Barriers

**Chapter 4: Blood and Barriers**

On September the First, Lewis awoke at five in the morning. He tried to roll over and fall back asleep, but he was simply too excited. Instead, he pulled out his well-worn copy of Hogwarts: A History, hoping to read away the hours before he could leave. This would have been much more effective, however, had he not continued to check the clock every minute. At last, the time read eight, and Lewis could justify showering and putting on the clothes he had carefully laid out the night before (he could have sworn that he saw Fletcher smirking at his mismatched socks in Diagon Alley). Unfortunately for Lewis, his mother insisted that he have a full breakfast, standing over him making sure he crammed every bit of eggs into a stomach already filled with nerves before she would let him drag them all out to the car.

The journey to King's Cross Station wasn't long, and soon enough Lewis was helping his father lift his enormous trunk out of the boot and onto the trolley his mother brought over.

Five minutes later, the family stood in front of the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. Lewis pulled out his ticket and the note that had come with it and checked again.

"It says we just walk through the barrier to get to Platform 9 ¾."

"Well," his father responded, " I suppose there's nothing else for it. Take a deep breath, and grab onto the trolley."

Together, they walked towards the barrier, picking up speed as they went, until they were nearly running. Just as they were about to collide, Lewis closed his eyes, afraid to look. Yet, there was no crash, at least not until a few seconds later. Lying on the ground next to his trunk, Lewis finally opened his eyes. The note had been correct; they hadn't collided with the brick barrier. He and his parents were in another area entirely. In the distance, he could see a large steam engine, with _Hogwarts Express_ painted in gold lettering on the side. And all around the platform were groups of people talking together in low voices, parents helping their children lift their heavy trunks from the platform to the train. Some were dressed normally; others wore a strange assortment of colours and styles. But all of this activity was separated from Lewis by yet another barrier. The clear, shimmering curtain in front of him didn't look nearly as solid as the brick barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 had; yet Lewis knew instinctively that it would be far more effective in preventing him from advancing. Slowly, the three of them got to their feet. And, as his parents righted his trunk, Lewis noticed the two men in long black robes flanking the barrier.

"Blood status?" asked the shorter of the two men, for what Lewis realised must have been the second time.

"I'm sorry, sir, what do you mean?"

"Well, I suppose there's little doubt on that front then," the man chuckled to his partner.

Turning back to Lewis, he asked again, "Well then, Mr. Mudblood, names and identification."

At this point, Mr. Moore stepped forward, "Tom and Amelia Moore, and this is our son Lewis. He's starting his first year at Hogwarts." There was a glint of pride in his eyes as he handed the man his identification.

"Firs' off, muggle," the other man said, stepping forward menacingly, "Avery was asking the mudblood. Second, that's not going to be 'appening any time soon. New rules. You've got to 'ave pure blood to be attending 'ogwarts, and judging by the looks of you two, little Louie 'ere ain't gonna meet that requirement. So, if you don't mind pissin' off, we're gonna be talking to 'im for a while about that stolen wand 'e's got there in 'is pocket."

And with that, he stepped forward, making to grab Lewis by the arm. Without hesitating, Tom Moore stepped in front of his son to protect him, knocking the man aside as he did so.

A strange smile spread across the man's face. With a dangerous glint in his eye, he turned back to Avery, "You see what 'appens when you try an play nice wit 'em. Don't appreciate nuffink these muggles. Really, just makin' a muck o the place."

"Too true, Troy," Avery responded, taking out his wand.

Before Lewis knew what was happening, Troy and Avery were pointing their wands at Mr. and Mrs. Moore and saying words he didn't recognize. There was a flash of green light and his parents fell suddenly to the ground. Lewis made to rush over them, but one of the men Troy or Avery, he wasn't sure which had grabbed hold of him. A few minutes and a fierce bout of spinning and nausea later, he was alone in a dark room, with nothing before him but the image of his parents falling to the ground again and again, as if he were in the cinema and there were something wrong with the projector.

A few hours later, Lewis heard a creaking at the door of what he now realised was a jail cell. He propped himself up to a sitting position and watched as another figure was tossed into the room. The new prisoner seemed to be as disoriented as he had been when he arrived, but once he got his bearings he made his way over to the bars, trying to find a way to open the door again.

"There's no way out," Lewis told the boy, who he now saw to be about his age.

"Well, sitting over there as you are, it doesn't seemed that you've looked very much," the boy responded.

"Do you really think that you can just break out of wizard jail?"

"Don't know enough about them to be sure," insisted the boy, but he stepped away from the bars and sat down next to Lewis.

"What's your name," he asked, abandoning the escape attempt for the time being.

"Lewis Moore."

"I'm Roger, Roger Middleton. I was supposed to be starting at Hogwarts today, or at least that's what that McGonagall woman said when she came to my house. I should have known that all her talk of me being a wizard would end up like this. But honestly, what are they on about, promising me magic and then locking me up in here?"

Lewis just nodded.

"It's just wrong. If I wasn't permitted to attend their stinking school, what was the purpose of going to all the trouble of inviting me in the first place? Would have saved me a lot of quid."

The boy didn't seem to need much encouragement, and went on in this way for quite a while, satisfied with the nods and mumbled yes's that Lewis offered from time to time.

Eventually, though, he asked, "Well, what about you?"

Lewis didn't know what to say. How could he possibly explain all that had happened today?

"The same."

"The same?" Roger asked, "What does that mean? Did you get a letter just as you were leaving saying perhaps it would be better if you didn't come at all, and then an hour later have people pounding on your door demanding that you come with them?"

"It was at the train station, but I'm here aren't I? What more is there to know?"

"Among other things," Roger insisted, "it would be nice to know what happens next."

But neither he nor Lewis had any idea. Lewis hardly understood what had happened this morning. So he returned to his nods and murmured agreements and let Roger spill out his anger.

"Git up you two."

Lewis sat up, confused by the strange surroundings, letting the events of yesterday sink in slowly, feeling the sadness and shame wash over him again. Unfortunately, the time it took him and Roger to re-acclimate themselves was a bit too long for the man at the door.

"Move along, or I'll make you regret it."

Lewis looked over at Roger. He could see the other boy considering a retort, but he remembered what this man, Troy, had done yesterday all too well now. Lewis decided that it would be best to just do what the man wanted. He got to his feet, dragging Roger up with him, and together they walked towards the door.

"S'about time. You wouldn't want to be late fer yer hearin', now would ye?"

Lewis didn't even try to stop Roger this time, "And what hearing is that?"

"Now you didn't think they'd be lettin' you get off w' nothin' fer stealing magic did ye?"

Lewis looked around at the cell they had just spent the night in. If this was nothing, he didn't want to know what came next.

"We didn't steal anything!" Roger was insisting

Troy's face took on a cruel smile, "Dirty muggles never come by magic natural and jus' lookin' at you two I can see that yer blood is right muddy. Indeed, comin' from paren's like you got," he said, looking at Lewis now, "I'm surprised tha' I don' see yeh down there crawlin' about w' the worms."

Lewis felt something slide out of place in his stomach at the mention of his parents. It had taken most of the night, be he had finally managed to block the strange green light out of his mind. Now, at Troy's words, it all came rushing back. The dirty walls of the prison corridor he was leading them along faded away and all he could see was his parents lying there on the ground unconscious – or at least so he told himself. He couldn't allow any other possibility to enter his mind.

An hour later, Lewis was sitting beside Roger on a hard wooden bench, feeling himself descend into a sea of misery. The dark corridor to which they had been taken, though much cleaner than the prison cell in which they had spent the night, was unmistakably more terrifying. Perhaps it was the chill in the air, but Lewis could no longer keep the thoughts and fears that he had tried to protect himself from all night at bay.

So lost was he in the events of the day before, that Lewis hardly noticed when a shrill voice broke the silence and called for Tom Alderton to step forward. He raised his head enough to see the rather portly man on his right stand and step, trembling through the doorway in front of them. A moment later, however, he had fallen back into his thoughts, wishing for nothing more than that the cold in the chamber would stop his heart and allow him to rejoin the parents whose fate he could not, in the midst of this miserable mist, deny any longer.

Lewis looked up as the door in front of him opened again. This time two wizards were frog-marching the portly man from earlier from the room. In the short while he had been inside Tom Alderton had gone from trembling to shaking uncontrollably. At first, Lewis thought he was merely shrieking, but as he listened, he realized that the man was pleading with his guards,

"_No, no, I'm half-blood, I'm half-blood, I tell you! My father was a wizard, he was, look him up, Arkie Alderton, he's a well-known broomstick designer, look him up, I tell you – get your hands off me, get your hands off -_"

Again, the shrill voice came out from the chamber, "_this is your final warning…If you struggle, you will be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss."_

Lewis had no idea what a Dementor was, nor why anyone would be worried about kissing it, but Alderton seemed to know, for though tears continued to flow from his eyes and his body continued to shake, his mouth remained firmly closed.

He disappeared down the hallway in the arms of his hooded guards, and the voice spoke once again, "_Next – Mary Cattermole."_

This time it was a small woman with dark hair who stood. Lewis wondered briefly if her fate would be as terrible as Alderton's had clearly been. Too quickly, however, this brought him back to thoughts of his own unknown fate and that which had befallen his parents. Once more, his surroundings faded away, and he felt the cold wash freshly over him as he succumbed to misery.


End file.
